His Butler, Despondent
by Keeper of Shadows and Death
Summary: Sebastian has done the one thing he swore he would never do; he betrayed the one person who counted on him the most. Alone and on the verge of insanity, Sebastian is forced to walk the Earth without a purpose and without excitement.
1. His Butler, Despondent

_Hi everyone! This is my first story, so please don't judge! Also, unfortunately and obviously, I do not own any of these characters or Kuroshitsuji itself. Those rights belong to the immensely lucky individual, Yana Toboso. I appreciate any criticism and ideas from readers._

 _Warnings – Slight SebaCiel, some gore and violence, and a spoiler from the manga and anime storyline._

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His Butler, Despondency

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He had been counting. It was all he could do to cope with the pain that was veering toward insanity. It had been exactly thirteen seconds, fifty-three minutes, and two days since he'd done the unthinkable. The boy's absence left him numb and heartbroken, something he'd never felt before and something he hoped to never feel again. For eighteen seconds, fifty-three minutes, and two days, he had been laying in his master's bed, staring at the ceiling in the exact position the child used to sleep in.

He stayed in the same unmoving posture, cocooned in the sheets so tight that he could barely breathe. The boy's delicious scent wrapped around him, wonderful but nauseating. It sometimes felt as if he were lying beside him, which in some ways he was. He could feel the child's soul, felt it slowly eating away his sanity, along with any hope he had of recovering from the immense tragedy that he had caused.

That day… That horrific day was when it had happened, without warning. He was at his hunger's mercy, and that day it was particularly ravenous. He became the raging beast human's imagined demons to be. He replayed the memory over and over in his head for the thousandth time, wondering if there was anything he could have done to save him.

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"Master? Are you all right?" His young Master's annoyance towards him was so strong, he could _see_ the aura of annoyance surrounding him as it twirled around him, much like the quill between the boy's fingers.

"How could you let him get away?! We were so close, we had the proof, the motive, and then we finally had the perpetrator! And you- You just let him go! What in the devil's name caused you to do something so _stupid_?!" By the time he had finished his little rant, the Earl's face was flushed and his chest was heaving up and down from lack of oxygen.

"My Lord, please. Calm down." When the butler was sure his Master would not launch into another tantrum, he continued. "He was not our suspect. The poor man," Imbecile, he wished to add, "Had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, the man you claimed to be the executor of the crime smelled much different than the actual crime scene itself." He walked over to his Master and tilted his head up, leaning his own down so they were mere inches from one another. "Master, you know that I cannot lie, and you know that I am always right. He was not the malefactor." He decided to test the boy's ability to understand Romanian.

" _Nu as lasa pe cineva care ar putea rau domnul meu iubit merge. Te iubesc prea mult."_ His accent was flawless, the words rolling off his tongue like smooth velvet, though he prayed the boy could not understand a single word that had tumbled from his lips. He would have been in immense trouble as well as humiliation, would never have heard an end to the child's teasing. Luckily, his only reaction was a flummoxed expression and a shrug of the shoulders at the butler's sudden use of the language.

Even after he pulled away, his Master's cheeks were still dusted with pink and he had a feeling it was because of the proximity of their faces. Lately, he had seemed odd when in his company, especially when he had to undress him so he could put on his clothes for the day, even more so when in the process of bathing the boy. For these reasons, the butler had begun teasing him in ways like he just had. It was amusing and adorable, but there was a downside to it. It sparked unfamiliar feelings inside him, feelings that made a strong demon weak. And Satan knew he was _not_ weak.

But at the moment, the butler decided to bury those mundane feelings deep down and have fun teasing the boy. Said boy huffed out a sigh, annoyed that his contractor was right once more. "I suppose you are correct. Have you any idea where he could have gone? All of our evidence had led us to that man, and it turns out that he was not the perpetrator." He looked down at all the papers splayed out on his desk, deep in thought.

The butler felt a sudden lurch in his stomach, like tiny needles poking through his abdomen. It was almost painful, leaving him with a queasy ache, though it had been so long since he had felt the pang of hunger that he could not recognize what it was until it was far too late. In that moment, he had chosen to act like a foolish human, to ignore the strange sensations. He stood there, thinking he was being a good, obsequious butler when he should have taken leave.

Much to his horror, he later found that William T. Spears had been right. The butler had been chained down to his Master for so long - acting like one of the obedient dogs he so loathed - that his demonic instincts had failed to alert him that he needed to get away from the Earl before he got hurt.

And so the pangs continued, getting longer and more intense as the seconds ticked by, closely followed by an incessant trembling that started as a slight twitch in his finger tips and became full on spasms in his arms. If the young Master had happened to look up, he was sure he would have looked like a mad man. The smell of the child's soul wafted to his nose, tantalizing and every bit as _mouth-watering_ as the demon had always imagined. _Oh, dear…_

He could not take it anymore, lest he _starve!_ He had tried to hold himself back, he truly had, but it made no difference. The young Master's only warning was a vicious snarl that would startle anyone into a comatose state. With inhuman speed and grace, the demon sprung over the desk and landed on him. A shatter pierced the once quiet air as the king's throne finally broke, like a toothpick between mortal fingers. The servant's demon self resurfaced, fighting to take control of his body but eventually gave up, morphing into a mixture of his two selves. He still looked like Sebastian excluding the sharp black talons that extended from his fingers and ebony wings that extended from his arched back.

His claws dug into his Master's shoulders, crimson spilling out of the deep wounds. His scream was like music to the demon's ears which were starved of the sounds of human misery. It was shrill and guttural, a sound that might come from one of Hell's beasts but not his Master. _His Master!_ A subconscious part of him came back to life, but it was not enough to stop his actions. While the outside activities continued, a silent war was raging inside his demented mind. He hated how he was still taking pleasure in his Master's screeches. _This is not right! He has not fulfilled his revenge, you are hurting him!_

With every scream and every gasp, it was as if the servant were driving a death scythe into himself, shoving it deeper and deeper into his un-beating heart. He gave the boy a frosty smile that did not reach his dead, calculating eyes. After he had finished bringing out the inevitable, the soul eating began.

He pulled off his blood soaked gloves and opened the boy's mouth. From between his parted lips came black smoke. His _soul._ Every once in a while, in the black mist that was his soul, a few wisps of gold, signifying his bravery and purity, and blue, signifying all he'd went through, the heartbreak and the sadness, would drift along as well, like strips of seaweed in an onyx sea. The demon had been waiting for that moment for centuries, or so it seemed, so why was he feeling so guilty?

The boy's eyes were filled with hurt and betrayal, and he could hear his Master's words the day that Madame Red died.

 _You will protect me no matter the circumstance… Sebastian… You are the one person who can never betray me… You can never leave my side… That's an order…!_ He had betrayed his Lord in the worst way possible. He had broken the contract and eaten his soul. His limbs finally regained their control, not that it mattered much. The only part of the boy's mutilated body that wasn't covered in blood was his head. His face remained neutral and cold, but his eyes were forever frozen in an expression of betrayal. Complete and utter hatred.

Sebastian sank to his knees, the full weight of what had just happened crushing him. He felt his heart snapping in two – After all he'd done, did he even have a heart? – and the process was slow and painful. He knew that his body now housed the boy's soul, that they were closer than ever, but in a way that was worse.

He was completely alone.

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	2. His Master, Wandering

_Hello readers! This is my first story, so please don't judge. Also, unfortunately and obviously, I do not own any of these characters or Kuroshitsuji itself. Those rights belong to the immensely lucky individual, Yana Toboso. Thanks to everyone who checked out my last Chapter, and anyone who bothered to rate, follow, or favorite! I'll try to update at least once a week, and I appreciate any criticism and ideas from readers._

 _Warnings – Slight SebaCiel, some gore and violence._

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His Master, Wandering

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The loud clacking of shoes echoes throughout the dark cellar-like room, waking the child from his nightmare filled slumber. His body aches from lying on the concrete floor without moving, and his bones crack as he crawls into a sitting position. The boy jumps as a bloodcurdling scream is emitted from somewhere in the building. Who knows how many other children are being held captive in this Hell, just like him.

The child is temporarily blinded by a sudden light that slices through the room, followed by a deafening rumble as door scratches against stone, and he is once again surrounded by the infernal black. As his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, he can faintly see a silhouette, feeling around on the ground string of curses as they do so, search around once more for the item. Light suddenly blazes up, and for the first time the boy sees the room he is being held captive in, and the very man who has brought him here. Or, shockingly, the woman. Almost bashfully, she looks up at him with her soft brown eyes, which hold none of the malice that would be expected from a kidnapper.

She walks towards him, kicking various blood-crusted tools out of her path. So as not to appear weak, the child stands up on trembling legs and crosses his arms.

"Are you Ciel Phantomhive?" She asks, though it is clear she already knows the answer. The boy simply glares at her. Unfortunately for him, his adorable childish looks do nothing but make her chuckle. "It is all right. I will not hurt you."

The boy suppresses a chuckle of his own. As if he trusts her.

Her long, pale fingers struggle to unlatch the rusted lock and after a few moments of fumbling, manage to unlock it and pull open the small cage door. She gently grabs hold of his arm, and between that second and the next her friendly demeanor completely disappears. The boy resists the urge to cry out as small streams of blood trickle down from where her fingers dig into his arm.

"The Master wishes to speak with you." She continues to drag him along behind her, though halfway there, lets go of his arm and trusts him to follow her of his own

Suddenly, a chorus of screeches begin to pierce the air. The screams haunt him with how similar they sound to his parents' screams as their flesh was reduced to ashes. The woman frantically looks around for the source of the screams, clearly as perplexed as the boy. A tall man in a butler's suit walks out of one of the rooms that line the hallway, covered in blood. Droplets of crimson spray off his jacket as he attempts to remove the stains.

"A demon?!" Though he does not lift his head - he is still preoccupied with brushing off the bloody splatters - his eyes rise to meet hers. He has raven black hair, darker than even the shadows that have become the child's only friend. And those eyes… They pierce his soul like a dagger to the heart. _Why are they so familiar?_ He squirms under the man's cold gaze, which quickly softens at the sight of him.

"Young Master?" Those two words are so familiar that it causes his head to ache. He still hasn't any idea as to who the man is or why those two words cause a river of nauseating flash backs. Everything from his posture to his affectionate gaze causes a memory to spring to the surface. Deft hands massaging the knots in his back, soft chuckles as he notices yet another of the boy's mundane flaws, the demon staring down at a child caked in blood in a room identical to this one, with bodies strewn across the floor in the same placement as the corpses in this reality. The child briefly wonders just what in the world this _i_ s _,_ exactly.

"Sebastian?"

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Ciel's soul is suspended in time. Well, he can hardly be called Ciel Phantomhive any longer as he no longer has a body. But his soul still exists, and it now floats about, and he somehow knows where. Trapped inside of his butler. He sighs. Internally, for he has no lungs.

He does not know which is worse. Burning in the eternal flames of Hell, or reliving his worst memories in the mind of his killer.


	3. His Widow, Mourning

_The long awaited chapter three! T_ _hank you all so much for the favorites and follows! Even if you just read it without doing anything else, it means so much to me! In return, I will try to respond to any PMs or any reviews I feel need a response and read some of your stories – if you've written any – in return._

 _Disclaimer – I do not own Kuroshitsuji or its characters. Those both belong to the immensely lucky Yana Toboso._

 _Warnings – Slight SebaCiel and some gore and lots of violence._

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The boy could not see a thing except for the swirling of colors swimming beneath his eyelids, brought on by the delusions of being trapped in between worlds. He was not going to attempt to question his current state, for his consciousness was still ensnared in that dark memory, the one that would often plague his dreams. The scene that had played in the child's mind before was starting to become muddled, the details growing fuzzier as time passed. He couldn't quite remember the critical aspects of the memory. Was the butler his savior or his tormentor? Did he agree to the Contract willingly or was he forced into it?

Ice cold fingers wrapped around his torso, squeezing until he felt the knots in his spine pop. They pulled him out of the suspension in his memories and back into… his bedroom? A demented, hellish version instead of the serene atmosphere the child was used to, perhaps. Not a single drop of sunlight was able to seep into the room, since the windows were smothered with thick black curtains. The walls appeared as if they were covered with inky wraiths, each of them wriggling when wind blew through.

If the boy concentrated hard enough, he could peel away the dark shadows clogging his vision. He could barely making out a lump that lay under the ivory sheets of his bed, curled into a fetal position. For all he knew, it could've been a rotting corpse, that was how still the body was. It hit him right then, just who the body belonged to. The coverlets were not enough to mask the body that the boy loved and loathed so much.

He could now see that the man's chest moved up and down ever so slightly, drawing in breaths that were much unneeded, and that there were tiny strands of black hair clinging to the pillows. It would seem that not only was the boy trapped inside his head, but he was also able to venture outside and view the Butler's actions from afar. Ciel Phantomhive had always known that a soul devoured by a demon would go to neither Heaven nor Hell, but he had not realized how terrible it would be.

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His Butler

After he realized how pitiable his current state was, he peeled the sheets off him, his body instantly cooling down as air recirculated his neglected limbs. They popped and cracked as he crawled into a sitting position on the edge of his young Master's bed.

Oh dear… His appearance was a frightful thing, his silky ebony hair tangled beyond repair and his eyes red from… crying? He believed it was the first time he'd ever succumbed to the pathetic emotion that afflicted so many humans.

He changed his appearance so he may look presentable, then headed to the kitchen to fix his Master some afternoon tea. The realization hit him like a death scythe, so hard his legs gave out from under him. He could practically feel the metaphorical blades of a certain reaper's chainsaw tearing into his chest, _his heart,_ which managed to alleviate his mental pain if only for a moment. After the feelings of abandonment and betrayal passed, the most prominent became abhorrence. The demon refused to think the words. That he actually… ate…

Mei-Rin passed by, glasses atop her head, with a look of somber pity pointed in his direction. She made no move to help him though. All four servants had come to accept that the butler had had a hand in the Master's murder, they just did not know how deep it was. That not only did he fail to protect the Earl, but he had been the one to actually take his life.

She wore the Phantomhive maid uniform, only the colors were changed to black and dark greys to match the despondency of its wearer. Her maroon hair was left to fall just shy of her elbows and her burgundy eyes were filled with gloom and fiery hatred, though not pointed in the Butler's direction. They had all promised that if they were to find the murderer, they would give him hell for his grievous mistake. If only they knew…

In one fluent move, the Butler was up and standing, giving Mei-Rin a nod as he walked. There was a person he must meet…

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"BAAAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" Hunched over a coffin, breathless from laughter, laid the Undertaker. As soon as the Butler had stepped foot in the retired reaper's 'Death Shop', he was bombarded with the usual nonsense. Unfortunately, the loon was deprived of laughter, so he did as he was told.

The Shinigami's chackling ceased as he sighed at the ex-servant's expression. "Quite a shame what befell the young Lord, ain't it? I wonder how it happened." _Now the fool is just trying to be annoying._ The Butler cut him a glare before slumping over the coffin next to his, all of his energy gone from the agonizing past few days.

"I'm afraid there ain't nothing I can do about your little Lord. Guess you shouldn't 'ave ate him. William tried to warn you. Hunger is a beast when not controlled." Sebastian bit back a growl, his knife-sharp teeth digging into his tongue. The sharp taste of copper quickly spread through his mouth. He silently cursed his weak human body.

Grim Reapers had access to Cinematic Records, a record of all the memories a human had collected during their short lifetime. Then, they determined whether or not to bring that human back to life or to collect their soul, most times being the latter. It may have been a bit late, but there was still a chance that his Master could be brought back. He would stoop to that pathetic level if it would bring back his beloved Earl. If not, then what purpose did the Butler have staying here?

"It was his time to go anyways. Your contract was fulfilled, yes? I suggest searchin' for another Master." The glossy black wood of the coffin shattered where the demon's hand had punched through it, where the Undertaker's head had been laying just moments before.

"That option is absolutely not a valid one. I refuse to live a life where my Master is not involved, for a life without my Master is a life I do not wish to live. Existence without him is quite a bore…" The Undertaker flashed him an irritating grin, his arms flailing as he ran over to the butler from the dark corner he'd fled to to avoid the Butler's fist.

Despite what some people may think, the Undertaker is not stupid. Far from it, in actuallity. And so, naturally, he knew that that wasn't the only reason the demon wanted his Master back.

"How pathetic. As you said when we first conversed, he is just an insignificant human. Now you're telling me he meant everything to you? You must simply move on. Even I shall miss his mundane, childish antics, but you do not see me acting so pathetically." And with that, the Butler decided the conversation had dragged on long enough. He said goodbye in the only way he could… By attempting to wring the reaper's neck and then exiting the store.

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His Fiancée

Her days used to be filled with color. Colorful dresses, colorful food, colorful parties. But without him, everything had faded to black and white. The dress she wore itself was black, almost as dark as the way she was feeling. The girl had wanted to wear a beautiful royal blue dress in his honor, but instead chose black. That was the only color that widows could wear, right?

She had managed to make it to his funeral without shedding a tear, though the process was making her eyes burn. She wanted to cry so badly, to just curl up in a ball and let herself be buried along with him. But she had to be strong. Besides, she'd lost the only thing she cared about. It was almost as if she _couldn't_ cry, as if any feelings of emotion had shriveled up and died. Perhaps that was what her beloved had felt after the fire.

Now that she was at in the church, she let the tears fall. She knew that would be the last time she cried before she became as emotionless as the boy in the casket. Alive, Ciel Phantomhive was a very formidable figure, so much stronger and brave than his small stature would suggest. But laying in that casket, he looked exactly as a boy his age should. Small and frail, his face peaceful.

"He has departed from us now, as all mankind must the Earth, as someday, we all must. His flesh shall turn to ashes, but his spirit will remain with the Lord. May God watch over his eternal soul and keep…" The minster's voice was lost, just white noise in the grieving widow's ears.

She'd never liked the church, with its peeling white walls and it's artificially stained glass, so dirty and grimy it was barely even colourful. Well, at least that was the way it appeared in her mind. She frantically batted her eyelashes, attempting to keep the dust particles floating in the air from flying into her eyes, which would only make her cry harder.

Overwhelmed, she scanned the room, looking for any familiar faces. Mei-Rin, Bardroy, Finnian, Tanaka, and Sebastian all stood next to each other in the far back of the room.

Finnian gave her a faint smile, waving weakly with his gloved hand. Though Mei-Rin's glasses were off and her eyes cold, she gave the girl a smirk, as pitiful an attempt as the gardener's. Tanaka just stared on, wise understanding in his eyes. Bardroy, so miserable that he didn't even have a cigarette between his lips, was unable to meet her eyes. And Sebastian… He was the worst of them all.

His stoic resolve had melted away to show a haggard, lost man. It was written on his face. He believed he was solely responsible for the situation, and it was tearing him up inside. If the girl herself wasn't in as bad a state, she would walk over and comfort him.

After the minister had finished, she walked up to the Earl's body. She wrapped his lifeless hand in hers, his skin pale but smooth. It was as if his eyes could pop open at any moment. His cheeks still looked flush with life and his barely open eyes were still bright. Her eyes filled up with tears once more as she kissed the boy's forehead. One of her tears dripped onto his face, marking a path down his cheek.

She could not take it anymore. The faint sunlight streaming through the windows stung her eyes, which had since been dried of tears, and her throat felt swollen. She could not breathe. She rushed out of the doors, and kept running. All sadness fled her in that moment, replaced by a murderous hatred. She was going to kill him.

She was going to kill the man that ended Ciel Phantomhive.

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	4. His Gardener, Reminiscing

_Hello everyone! I'm trying third person this time! If it works out well, I'll keep writing this way._

 _Thank you for reading this chapter, and thank you all so much for the favorites and follows! Even if you just read it without doing anything else, it means so much to me! In return, I will try to respond to any PMs or any reviews I feel need a response and read some of your stories – if you've written any – in return._

 _Disclaimer – The rights to Kuroshitsuji still belong to Yana Toboso. *Sigh*_

 _Warnings – Slight SebaCiel some gore and violence._

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The Butler

The demon sat in his former Master's chair, pondering. He could vaguely remember that once upon a time, a long, _long_ time ago, he was vulnerable. It was when he was a small child, or at least appeared to be. Three hundred years after his creation, when humans first started to dot the Earth, there was a little boy by the name of Adam. He was the demon's first Master.

Adam was a very lonely child, without any parents to guide him in the right direction. One day, his hatred became so great that he managed to summon the demon unintentionally. Sebstian came in the form of a child, hoping this would lessen the boy's fearfulness. All Adam asked was of his friendship.

That was before the demon had found out how cruel humans could be. How filthy and unclean they were. Sometimes he would question how people could think that devil's were the true sinners of this world.

For the first few days, everything was perfectly fine. Sebastian was even starting to develop a true sense of friendship with the child. But the human's hatred ran too deep. Sometimes, even the demon could not satiate his loneliness.

So he'd lain there, battered and bloody, his pride and any sense of happiness shattered, while the child threw himself from that same cliff that the demon so longed to jump off himself. He'd taught Sebastian (At the time, Morpheus) so many emotions. How to love. And how to hate. But even then, he had not felt this crushing sense of loss.

Though the demon was loath to admit it, it was better this way. Ciel Phantomhive had exacted his revenge. Or… had he? Did Sebastian really betray him? Or did he just end what had been drawn out long enough?

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The Bride

White. White, as far as the eye could see.

Today was supposed to be the best day of her life. So why was she so sad? Was it perhaps because, once upon a time, five years ago, her beloved;s funeral taken place that very day? Or was it because her heart simply no longer had the capacity to feel happiness, or excitement?

A long, translucent piece of fabric draped atop her golden hair blurred her surroundings. Or was it perhaps her tears that were blinding her? Her fiancee's seamstress, Hannah, circled around her like a vulture with spotted prey before giving her a smile. Sebastian murmured his approval, no doubt tortured by the memory of his Master as much as the girl was, and Tanaka nodded, taupe eyes lighting up with delight.

The trio gazed at her a few moments more until Hannah broke the silence. "I believe it is time, my Lady. The ceremony is about to begin."

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Fabric trains made of stitched snow. Golden thread spun into ringlets that rested upon sickly pale shoulders. Emerald spheres filled with hope that had long since died along with the girl's – woman's – soul.

Coiled lashes attempted to cover eyes as everyone gazed upon the glowing bride. Her legs trembled as if she'd never set foot on solid ground before that moment. She attempted to match her steps to the methodical tune drifting from the crackling gramophone, but failed miserably. _I am the most pathetic bride to ever be wed in this church._ This church… The very church that her beloved had been buried in five years ago.

Clear tears slipped down her flushed cheeks, the crowd awing at the beautiful sight. Did those imbeciles honestly think that she was happy? She had finally made it to her new beloved. No, her captor. His blonde hair glittered in the sunlight, almost as blindingly bright as his smile. The corners of her quivering lips attempted to lift up into as bright a beam as his, though it was more of a grimace.

The pastor's paper thin lips parted to begin. After what seemed like an eternity, the old man finally began what everyone had been waiting for. A hush passed over the already silent crowd.

"Do you, Marchioness Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford, take Earl Alois Trancy to be your wedded husband?"

The attendees sucked in shaky breaths. Everyone was on edge, because no, this was not your ordinary wedding. This was a testament to the woman's strength, to see if she had really managed to move on from the tragedy that had struck.

"I-" The Marchioness stopped, moments from voicing what she truly wished to say. _I do not._ But today, she had finally mustered the courage to speak what she wished. She was a woman now, free to do as she pleased. So she spoke.

"I do."

… Perhaps next time…

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Everything after that was a monotonous blur, all words drifted through Elizabeth's mind, all except for the ones to seal her fate.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Her legs threatened to fall out from beneath her, her eyes blinded with tears. Tanaka was overcome with enough joy for the two of them. Sebastian, body stiff and his eyes dull, attempted a half-hearted smirk. The pastor spoke once more, though the bride could not hear it over the roaring of blood in her ears. One word caught her attention. Kiss.

The Earl's pale lips were mere centimeters from her own when she blacked out.

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The Gardener

The gardener was outside, doing just as his namesake suggested, gardening. He'd been exuberant when he had heard the wonderful news, that Lady Elizabeth was getting married.

"With the Master's best friend, no less!" He had only realized how bad that sounded until he couldn't take it back. Lady Elizabeth had already felt like she was betraying her late fiancée, but now that she was marrying his _best friend…_ She had burst into a ball of tears as soon as the poisonous words left Finnian's well-intentioned lips. Nevertheless, Lady Elizabeth had still wanted him there. But no, he was too lowly a servant to have access to such a magnificent event.

Only Tanaka and Sebastian were allowed.

And so the sefvants set about the mansion, resuming their duties. Bardroy was in the kitchen, ruining more meat and burning more cupboards. Mei-Rin was in the Dining Room, breaking more silver (How does one even manage to accidentally break silver?!) and smashing more china. And the gardener was, you guessed it, gardening. Which for him, roughly translated to turning plants to ash with acidic liquids such as pesticide.

With him, gardening was a matter of sacrifice, whether he meant it to be or not. He beamed with pride when he saw how nice he made the white roses look, but then he turned around and saw that the spider lilies had all but turned to dust under the wrath of his unlatched pesticide lid. He sighed. Water dripped from the roses' petals, as if they were weeping for their fallen comrades. The gardener himself shed a few tears. How could he not when the spider lillies reminded him of a certain Madame dressed all in red?

The sky was as dark and doleful as the boy's mood. He sat there, thinking, as a certain horrid memory pulled him out of reality. It felt as if it were happening before his very eyes once again.

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He was so proud. He'd finally cooked something on his own! Granted, the cake tasted like rotting salt, and it was charred to the point where black clumps of ash would drift off, but it was still a cake, and the young Master _loved_ cake! After the long journey from kitchen to office, running at the speed of light, it was unsurprising that he was slightly winded so the boy paused before knocking.

Inside, a scream echoed. Noticing the door was already open a bit, he peeked in and saw a strange beast looming over the young Master. Blood dripped from ebony talons that extended out of its fingers. Battered black wings that were more befitting for a raven than a man were hung limply from its shoulders.

He couldn't do anything until it was already too late. The young Master was gone, limp in the trembling arms of the very monster that had killed him. The gardener paused, if only for a moment. Sebastian… Where on Earth was he?! He was supposed to always be by his Master's side, to protect him from things such as this!

The gardener attempted to kill the demonic creature, but it was far more agile than he. He was knocked out in mere seconds.

Finnian was sure it was a hallucination, but before he succumbed to the darkness he thought he saw Sebastian's face looming over his.

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	5. Finale

_Thank you for reading this chapter, and thank you all so much for the favorites and follows! Even if you just read it without doing anything else, it means so much to me! In return, I will try to respond to any PMs or any reviews I feel need a response and read some of your stories – if you've written any – in return._

 _I really hope you enjoy this one!_

 _Disclaimer – One day, perhaps in the near future, Yana-Chan will give us fangirls/fanboys the rights to Kuroshitsuji, but today is not that day._

 _Warning – This chapter has a_ lot _of blood and gore in it. Some themes may also be upsetting for some people, though I can't say anymore without spoiling the rest._

 _._

He had once thought that after his soul had been eaten, he would go to Hell, and that would be it. He now realized just how delusional that thinking process had been. His parents, and later his Aunt as well, had been killed, he had been kidnapped and sacrificed, and his job was to be the Queen's loyal slave. Of course he would not get the luxury of Hell. Even being trapped in that paradoxical black void for eternity would have been better than this. Instead he was trapped inside his killer's mind, forced to watch the horrific acts of his past, and watch them unfold in the present. He was forced to observe one such act at the very moment.

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 _They were on to him, he knew that now. He had been a fool for not realizing it sooner, had been a fool for allowing himself to be blinded by the death of his Master. He resolved that his sole focus would now be on ridding himself of anyone who dared cross him. While the demon would easily be able to break out of prison, he was not one in favor of his secret being discovered. It did not take much motivation; his life came first, no matter who the entity was that was threatening it._

 _A soft breeze blew through the open window, stirring the wispy curtains attached to it. Luminescent moonlight spilled in, illuminating his target's rising and falling chest and lighting up their pale face. Airy breaths ruffled their soft golden hair, face a picture of serene peace. He had always found it amusing how they could be so oblivious to their imminent deaths, taking their last few seconds of life for granted. Frankly, he found everything about humans amusing, if not annoying._

 _He pulled out one of the kitchen knives he had brought from the manor. He could kill them just as easily with his hands, but he wanted their death to be as painful and agonizing as his internal pain the last five years. His every nerve tingled at the thought of ripping them apart, until they were mangled and unrecognizable. Oh, indeed, he intended to do just that. He raised the silver blade above his head – He was one for dramatics, that one – and paused._

 _This was the best moment, the climax of the murder. The quiet before the storm. Never again would their sparkly smile blind a room's occupants, never again would their eyes be alight with happiness. Never again would their body have to draw in another breath. All because of him. That thought was what he enjoyed the most. He swung the knife down in an arc, allowing gravity to take over after that._

 _Their eyes popped open seconds too late, mouth opening in a silent scream. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, flowing down the sides of the bed, accumulating at his feet. In that last moment, right before the soul left the body, they looked up at him, almost as if in thanks. Thank you for freeing me, they seemed to say._

 _Elizabeth Midford's green eyes lost their light, for the last time._

 _._

He was frozen. He couldn't move, and it irritated him unlike anything else. The air around him smelled of copper and the faint tinge of smoke. Had Bardroy been cooking lately? No, that couldn't be it. He was lying in a pool of something warm. He hadn't tripped and spilled the milk he was carrying, he knew that. Suddenly, like a light switch being flipped, the feeling came flooding back into his arms. He felt along the back of his head; when he found nothing, he checked his chest. His hand struck something long and silver protruding from the middle of it. One of Sebastian's knives.

Puddles of blood covered the ground, swirling like the billowing strokes beneath an artist's brush. It weaved a winding trail of coiling crimson, with as many twists as a labyrinth. He was startled to find that the blood was not, in fact, blood but maroon locks, and at the end of that river of hair was a very familiar head. Acid bubbled up the back of his throat, the only warning he got before the contents of his stomach were released. Mei-Rin's body was much like his own, untouched except for a knife of shining silver lodged inside her chest. There was one major difference, the only one that mattered. She was dead.

To his left lay another body with a head of murky blonde hair, a flamethrower tightly clasped in his right hand. The tendons in his muscled arm were clenched with the tension of the moments before a battle. Even in death, Bardroy still had a cigarette pressed between his lips, embers floating up to the ceiling.

He tilted his head back as far as he dared, just managing to glance at the wisps of snowy white hair before he fell flat on his back. _Oh, Tanaka…_ There was no knife in his chest, but in his forehead, eyes staring up at the ceiling with that cloudy film eyes developed after the life left their body. Black spots clouded his vision, surroundings blurring and twisting into abstract shapes. He welcomed death with open arms, feeling something that could only be described as excitement. He would see the other servants and his favourite bird that he'd accidentally killed when they first met. He would see the young Master. But when Finnian finally left this world, it was not the faces of his friends, no clouds or angels, that greeted him but the endless flames of Hell.

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 _Something exploded inside his chest, as if his heart had carried all of the World's agony and sadness until it just couldn't contain it anymore. His legs buckled beneath him, from pain or sadness he could not tell. Rivers of salty tears poured down his cheeks, and his face twisted as he let out an earsplitting wail. There was no one there to hear him. He had killed her family, too._

 _He did not understand this feeling of pure hatred, of utter self-_ loathing. _Somehow, his pain managed to double, then triple. It would not_ stop. _A child's scream joined his. It was so quiet, even his sharp ears could barely pick it up or process it, yet so loud that it was all he could hear. Their screeches of agony intertwined until you could not pick apart which was the demon's and which was the child's. It was coming from the boy inside him, he realized. For the first time, he truly regretted his actions._

 _He had not meant to do any of the bad things that he had done. Because while he may be a demon, no one seemed to understand that he had never wished to be the creature that he was. He did not mean to kill Lady Elizabeth, or make Finnian immortal. He did not mean to hurt his young Master. He wanted him back._

 _But once something is truly lost, one can never get it back again._

 _._

"Abberline!" The detective sighs, a sound of exasperation.

"Yes, Officer Randall?"

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would scour the rest of the Manor, to see if there are any other bodies."

His tone told him that he had no choice in the matter.

"Yes, sir." His response was not even a murmur, but a breath of air escaping his chapped lips. While he had only been employed at Scotland Yard for a few months, he could tell this would be one of the worst cases of his career.

There had been rumors floating around, about how it was Phantomhive's soul come back from the dead. Others believed that it was his widow who had finally snapped and attempted to avenge her betrothed.

So far, they had found three bodies, all of them servants to the Earl. There were signs that there was a fourth person in that room. He hoped they'd escaped. There was another search party at the Midford's house. The entire family had been slaughtered, but the most peculiar thing was the discovery of the Michaelis butler. A strange sword with a twisting blade stuck out of his chest, its light green metal sending jade rainbows cascading off the walls. His mouth had formed a smirk, lifeless claret eyes staring upwards. It appeared to be a suicide.

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 **Fifty Years Later**

 _Once upon a time, there was a king named Phantomhive, who was a strong and merciless leader. He ruled his lands with an iron fist, making sure no one dared challenge him or step out of line. He was such a feared figure that his subjects would grimace just at the utterance of his name. The people lived in constant fear of his mighty wrath._

 _One day, along came a knight in shining armor. He went on to earn the king's trust. Years later he managed to slay the king, like a monster, for that was what he was. The people rejoiced, celebrating their new hero._

 _There was nothing left of the king, except for his rusted crown._

And so on and so forth. That story, full of lies and as far from the truth as you could get, was the only proof that Lord Phantomhive had ever existed. He was a thing of the past, of myths and legends. He had vanished into thin air, like his butler and his fiancée. As a child, he had dreamed of ruling the world, of his legacy living on forever and ever. But of course, reality is much different than what we always dreamed it would be.

In the end, Ciel had never gotten to see his parents again. Never got his happily ever after. Instead, he lives down in Hell, with Finnian and Sebastian. He is content to sit on his throne made of bone and sorrow. Because the king's crown never rusted, and his throne never broke. Ciel Phantomhive still rules.

Happily? No. Forever after? Yes.

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 _End_

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 _(A/N) I hope you guys enjoyed that as much as I did! I am sincerely sorry if the ending may have not been to your liking – What, with the whole everybody dying thing – But I hope it is still somewhat satisfactory if that is the case._

 _I will still be posting stories, though I will most likely stick to one shots._

 _Thank you to everyone who read this story, and thank you for all of your patience with my irregular updates. I really appreciate the likes and follows, and just the views themselves. I hope to see you all in my next projects, whenever they come to be. But for now, bye everyone!_


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